


Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered

by scallywap



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Drinking, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Oblivious Ryan Bergara, Pining, Pining Shane Madej, Sharing Clothes, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29624835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scallywap/pseuds/scallywap
Summary: “I would run to the ends of the Earth if you told me to, Bergara.” He confessed as his friend slept. “I’d give every piece of myself away if it meant I’d see you smile one more time.” Shane laughed softly, and brought a hand up to brush at Ryan’s hair. “You’d probably laugh at me for that, huh?”-Shane, Ryan and the unspoken level of comfort they bring each other.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 9
Kudos: 47





	1. After One Whole Quart of Brandy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popkin16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/gifts).



> My second Shyan fic in a week. New fandoms will do that to you, heh. This one is dedicated to Pop since they helped me expand this idea into a full-fledged story and not just the drabble I originally had in mind. This one's sappy, folks. Most of my fics are sappy but this one's something ELSE. The rest of the fic isn't written yet but... I wrote this in a day, so if we continue at that pace it'll most likely be finished in a few days time. Big, big thanks to Steph for beta reading this for me <3 I hope you all enjoy!

“...Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to get drunk on BuzzFeed’s time?”

They were in a swanky hotel in the middle of the Las Vegas strip for their first Unsolved Supernatural shoot in far too long. Ryan had his head in the minifridge plucking all of tiny bottles of spirits out, collecting them in his hands. He chucked one at Shane’s head, Shane barely catching it in time. Ryan stood up straight and slammed the door closed with a hip check, before walking over to the bed and dropping his collection onto the covers, the bottles clinking together lightly. He turned to Shane with a shrug. “It’s what the ghost _needs,_ Shane. We gotta listen to the ghost.”

Shane turned over the small bottle of _Maker’s Mark_ in his hand and teased at the wax seal with his finger. “So, you think getting hammered would be enough to bring this guy out?”

The ghost in question had been the original benefactor of the hotel, but despite Las Vegas’ penchant for sin the man himself was a stickler for purity. Some said the hotel was originally meant to be a religious retreat but that in a mixup with the contractors; that they made a luxury hotel instead, which infuriated the benefactor. It was said that the ghostly spirit of the benefactor punishes visitors that disrespect the building, or commit sin. 

Ryan shrugged and selected his own bottle from the pile, uncapping it was a sharp twist of his hand and drinking the entire thing in one swig. “Well, it’s either getting drunk or having sex. If he didn’t like drunks then he certainly wouldn’t approve of two guys banging it out.”

Shane raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, but opened his own bottle instead of providing Ryan with an answer. He drank the entire thing, (which couldn’t have been more than two shots worth) and screwed up his face as the whiskey passed down his throat with a burn. He chucked the now empty mini-bottle into the small wicker garbage can at the foot of the bed and slumped down into a beige armchair, crossing his legs at the ankle. Shane’s eyes flickered over to where they had set up the tripod with the camera already rolling for the night, a little red light indicating that it was on. 

There was no way that some prissy ghost was going to show up tonight, obviously, but Ryan still had that nervous energy that he always had whenever they settled down to sleep at these ‘haunted’ locations. He sat on the bed with his hands on top of his stomach, fingers wringing together in a nervous habit that Shane recognised all too easily on his best friend. 

“You know, I think they have a pack of cards in this room,” Shane announced loudly, intentionally snapping Ryan out of whatever anxious thought that had suddenly made him look so worried.

It worked as expected as Ryan seemed to jump out of his daze. He regarded Shane with a raised eyebrow, and hummed. “I mean, you’re probably right. This _is_ Vegas after all. If you aren’t gambling downstairs then they want you gambling in the rooms.”

Ryan got up from the bed and rummaged around in the bedside table, before pulling out a brand new plastic wrapped deck of cards with an intricate pattern on the case. “Fancy,” Shane admired and gestured for Ryan to sit next to him on the other armchair, pulling the small coffee table in between them to use as a playing surface. “Wanna play poker?”

His friend snorted in amusement and sat down in the chair, sitting cross legged on the plush seat cushion. “Do you even know how to play poker?” Ryan asked him.

Shane tilted his head to the side momentarily, considering. “No,” He admitted finally. “Do you?”

“No,” Ryan shook his head, “This is going to be a very interesting game.”

It turns out that poker, or at least some approximation of the game Shane and Ryan had decided to play, was little more than Go Fish but with the occasional poker-term thrown in for good measure. They didn’t bet with money, but instead with snacks and drinks from the mini bar. As they played, the pile of mini-spirits by their side was slowly diminishing, with the two of them getting drunk far quicker than was probably advisable. Shane was around his fifth bottle when he slammed down two Queens onto the table and declared loudly, “Poker!”

Ryan threw a macadamia nut at him angrily. “That’s not how you play the game, jackass!”

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, before dissolving into giggles. Shane reached over to pick the two Queens back up to put them back into his deck when Ryan stopped him, placing his hand over Shane’s. “You can’t take them back, you forfeited them.” he said with the utmost seriousness.

“But it was for a bit!” Shane argued, batting Ryan’s hand away and adding them to his deck anyway. “If it’s for a bit, then the rules don’t apply.”

“That’s bullshit! Of course the rules apply!”

“Oh, really? Well that rule certainly wasn’t in place when you stuffed the Jack of Spades down your pants and said you were _jacking off._ ” Shane huffed.

Ryan grinned in memory at his joke and relaxed. “Yeah, that was pretty funny of me.”

Shane huffed out a fond laugh. “You son of a bitch.” 

Ryan shrugged, and collected his earnings of M&M’s and a bag of assorted nuts, apparently conceding that the game was over. Shane didn’t argue with him and collected his own winnings of a bag of pretzel bites, throwing one into his mouth to chew on solemnly as he thought about his losses. He had really wanted the M&M’s; they were _peanut_ M&M’s after all.

“Think we got enough footage for the montage of our drunk shenanigans?” Shane asked, gesturing to the camera.

Ryan stared at the tripod as if he had entirely forgotten it was there and then shrugged. “We should probably do more than just sit around and play cards. To keep it interesting.” He thought for a moment before an idea came to him, his entire face brightening as it did so. He pulled out his phone and brought up the Apple Music app, before setting it down on the table and turning up the volume. From the tiny speakers, the song _‘Tainted Love’_ started to play; its familiar synth beats resonating around the room. Ryan danced to the beat and sauntered towards Shane in what he assumed was supposed to be a mock-seductive gait. 

His hips popped at each blare of the synth and he pointed at Shane, and crooked his finger in a beckoning motion. “Get up here, big boy. Show me your moves.”

“Literally no one wants to see that.” Shane said flatly, staring at the other man.

Ryan pouted, letting his eyes fall closed as he danced. His moves become a little wilder, more untrained. “Just dance like no one’s watching.”

“I can’t do that when I know that potentially millions of people could see this footage.” Shane argued with an easy joking tone. “The only way people don’t see this is if the editors are kind to us. Which you know they never are.”

“You’re no fun!” Ryan sang in a lilting voice, then started singing along to the music. _“This tainted love you’ve given, I give you all a boy could give you. Take my tears and that’s not nearly all--”_ He cut himself off with a laugh, doubling over with the force of it.

Shane shook his head at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

Ryan shrugged and toppled over onto the bed with a sigh, lying on his back with his legs hanging off the bed, feet barely touching the carpeted ground. He stretched his arms above his head with a groan, before letting them lay lax there. Shane cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from the thin strip of tan skin that had made its presence known when Ryan’s shirt had lifted up. 

Shane busied himself by cleaning up the empty bottles that had been casted around the room by putting them all into the garbage can, making a mental note to write an apology and leave a tip for room service after they leave. The ghost of a benefactor may not haunt them tonight, but the guilt of leaving a mess for someone else to clean up absolutely would stick with Shane until they were back in LA.

“It’s weird to be away from the Watcher team, huh?” Ryan inquired suddenly without warning.

Shane froze in his tracks, half bent down to pick up an empty bottle of _Smirnoff Ice_ that had somehow rolled all the way towards the door. He looked back at Ryan before continuing to pick up the bottle. “I suppose it has been a while since we’ve been out of state for an Unsolved shoot,” Shane agreed, heading back over to the bed to drop the bottle in the bin. “But those guys can look after themselves for a few days while we’re gone. In fact, Steven’s probably happy to have us out of the office for a bit so that he can actually have some peace and quiet for once.”

”I suppose that’s true.” Ryan replied in a placid tone.

The taller man frowned at Ryan’s sudden one hundred and eighty shift in mood, but made no mention of it. Instead, he dragged the armchair closer to the bed so he could sit down, trying not to think about how their positions were reminiscent of a therapy session. “You’re worried about them?”

Ryan laughed and brought a hand down to cover his smile, though Shane wished he wouldn’t. “Not worried, no. You’re right, those guys are fine without us.”

Shane sensed that there was more to that than what Ryan was saying. “But…?”

His friend sighed and sat up to look at Shane properly. “I don’t know. It feels a little bit like I’m leaving my child alone for the first time. I have a little bubble of anxiety in my belly that keeps wanting to call and make sure everything’s okay.”

“I’m not sure if Steven would appreciate a call at-” Shane checked his watch, “Two in the morning? _Jesus_ , when did it get so late?”

Ryan looked at him in surprise, and stood up to reach for his phone that was now playing a quiet, acoustic song that Shane didn’t recognise to verify the time. “Shit, we need to sleep right now or this ghost will never come.”

Shane watched as Ryan flew around the room, suddenly back into business mode as if he didn’t have a disastrous mix of strong alcohol in his stomach. He set the camera to night vision mode and hooked it up to the wall so that it didn’t run out of battery in the middle of the night. Collecting some soft looking pajamas from his overnight bag, Ryan hurried to the bathroom to get changed.

“Y’know, I don’t think whether or not we’re awake would make a difference if this ghost shows up. Since ghosts aren’t real an’ all.” He called to the bathroom, standing up to get his own pyjamas. He heard a muffled _‘fuck you, man’_ from the bathroom and chuckled to himself. He changed quickly and pried his socks off with his toes, before settling down in the centre of the bed.

Shane stretched out his long limbs, spreading out like a starfish and felt a few of his old bones pop and crack as he did. He was getting too old for this ghost-hunting business, even though this particular joint was far nicer than the previous places they had visited. At least it wasn’t some dust, rat infested hellscape in the middle of Ohio again. He could live happily for the rest of his life if he never had to go back to Ohio and experience their shitty airport hotdogs.

Ryan walked out of the bathroom looking suitably ready for bed in his old grey BuzzFeed shirt and checkered pyjama bottoms, his contacts had been removed and in their place in favour of wearing his thick black framed glasses. Shane tried not to think about the surge of fondness he felt at the sight of Ryan looking so adorably sleepy. Ryan yawned, bringing up a hand to his mouth. “Whiskey always makes me sleepy.” He complained, padding over to the bed. 

“That amount of alcohol would make anyone sleepy,” Shane retorted, closing his eyes. “The fact that it was whiskey makes no difference here.”

“Shut up, Shane.” Ryan huffed, poking Shane on the underside of his right foot. “Move over I gotta sleep.”

Shane smirked, opening one eye to lazily look at his friend. “Why don’t you _make me_ , Bergara,” He challenged before closing his eyes and stretching out to take up even more space on the bed

Hearing Ryan huff, Shane heard only the sound of heavy footfall before he suddenly found himself being jumped on and pinned down by a whole lotta Bergara. “ _Jesus Christ!_ ” Shane yelped, opening his eyes to see that Ryan was practically laying entirely on top of him, a wide playful grin on his stupid chipmunk face. “Give a man some warning next time, you almost hit me in the crotch!”

“Then you should have moved over in the first place.” Ryan replied through a yawn, taking off his glasses and putting them on the bedside table. Shane wriggled under him, but found that Ryan was a little too heavy for him to easily get away from despite they’re height difference. Unhelpfully, his mind supplied him with the fact that muscle weighs more than fat and Ryan had a _decent_ amount of muscle on his shorter-than-the-average-male sized body.

Shane swallowed and let his head fall back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling and wondering why the world hated him. “You’re so, so ridiculous. Y’know that?” He said, for the second time that night, his voice low and fond, not wanting to disturb Ryan too much.

When he received no response from the other man, he looked down and saw to his horror that Ryan was already fast asleep, aided by the sleepy fog of alcohol in his veins. Panic settled into Shane’s gut like an iron weight as he realised that they were going to _sleep_ like this. _All night_. 

Fuck.

If Shane was lucky, which he very rarely was, Ryan would have a bad night’s sleep from the fear of potentially seeing a spectre in the night. However, given how Ryan was already softly snoring on Shane’s chest with his face peaceful and mouth open in slumber, it didn’t look likely. Shane screamed in his head, clenching his hands into fists by his side and very deliberately _not_ letting them come up to cradle the man snoozing away on top of him like they so very desperately wanted to. 

What was his life, that it was seemingly perfectly normal for he and Ryan to go to a luxury hotel in Las Vegas for a night to _hunt ghosts_ and snuggle while doing it. Shane’s mind stretched back to wonder what magical decision he had made one day that had veered his life into this direction. He knew the answer of course; Ryan. Being friends with Ryan, sticking by his side, staying with him through all of his crazy ideas. His dedication to Ryan had given his life and entirely different outlook, one that had changed his life forever.

His chest felt warm and it wasn’t because of the human hot water bottle trapping him. He swallowed as his fondness for this man filled his veins until he was radiating with it. Shane would never admit it to Ryan, but he would rather suffer a terrible accident than tell his friend just how much he loved him. However, in these quiet moments he let himself think about it. ‘ _Do you know?’_ He thought as he looked down at Ryan. ‘ _Do you know how far I would go for you?’_

Ryan moved in his sleep, a small stretch and then suddenly he was nuzzling against Shane’s chest, right over his heart. Shane was suddenly reminded of Obi for a small moment; the way he stretched out his two front paws when Shane woke him from a good nap, eyes closed and blinking slowly in absolute trust. Ryan didn’t wake, but the effect it had on him was the same as a wave of adoration flowed through Shane like a current.

He brought his hands up to very gently hover over the man’s arms, so close that he could feel the practically invisible hairs there. Shane swallowed and committed himself to the action, laying his hands gently on Ryan, watching his face nervously for any sign that he had woken him. When Ryan didn’t stir, Shane let out a breath he hadn’t even been aware that he had been holding. Feeling a little more confident that Ryan wouldn’t wake up, he held him properly. Shane wrapped his arms fully around the man’s wide shoulders, holding him close as he slept.

Distantly he was reminded of a song that his mother used to sing whenever she was sitting in their family living room as Shane played with his Batmobile toy on the floor. He remembered how her voice went low on the notes, as she sung the lyrics to him. He remembered how her voice seemed to resonate through his chest, squeezing at his heart and making him stop everything to listen. How she had smiled so warmly at him when she saw him listening, and had gestured for him to come closer so that she could hold him in her arms.

Shane held Ryan now, and quietly began to sing.

_“Couldn’t sleep and wouldn’t sleep_

_The love came and told me I shouldn’t sleep_

_Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I._

_Lost my heart, but what of it?_

_He is cold, I agree_

_He can laugh but I love it_

_Although the laugh’s on me.”_

Ryan let out a quiet grunt in his sleep, making Shane stop his low singing. Once again, Ryan didn’t wake, so Shane sighed into his friend’s hair and held him close. “I would run to the ends of the Earth if you told me to, Bergara.” He confessed as his friend slept. “I’d give every piece of myself away if it meant I’d see you smile one more time.” Shane laughed softly, and brought a hand up to brush at Ryan’s hair. “You’d probably laugh at me for that, huh?”

The room was quiet around them apart from the low hum of the AC by the window, and the distant noise of the Las Vegas strip below. All of that seemed so far away from them right now. In that moment it felt like there was no one else but the two of them, of this bed, in this room. It felt like the transparent film of their bubble kept them safe from any outside influence, all because Ryan was here and he was asleep.

Relaxing the muscles in his neck, Shane half smiled and gently let his head fall back against the pillow. He realised with little shock, that if ghosts _were_ real, he would never allow them to break this fragile moment. If that stupid spooky spectre that Ryan had researched actually showed up in this instant, to hurt them or just to scream at them, Shane would not waste a single second. He would instantly protect Ryan without even thinking about himself first. ‘ _Would he do the same for you?’_ His brain taunted.

Ryan snored and Shane grinned. Of course he would; Ryan was his best friend. There was no doubt in his mind that Ryan wouldn’t bend over backwards trying to protect him too, even if it was with a holy water gun or some other trinket that the man believed could help. 

Blearily, Shane looked over to the alarm clock that sat on the bedside table, happily declaring that it was nearly four in the morning. They were set to wake up at six and with the way the night was going, it seemed that it would be a sleepless night for Shane. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought as he felt Ryan’s heartbeat go thud against his stomach in a gentle _badum-badum-badum_ rhythm. At least it gave him time to savour this moment until the inevitable moment when the bubble popped, and suddenly it was over.

In the morning, Ryan woke up and wiped a small trail of drool from his mouth; Shane pretending to be asleep to save the man from embarrassment. Ryan pried himself away from Shane’s body and he quietly walked to the bathroom with gentle footfalls. Waiting until the door clicked closed to open his eyes again, Shane readied himself to pretend like he had woken up while Ryan was gone.

“Oh hey, man.” Ryan said when he came back out of the bathroom a few minutes later. Ryan had a strange smile on his face, an emotion behind it that Shane couldn’t quite place.

Shane faked a yawn and rubbed at his eyes. “I hope you washed your hands in there.”

Ryan frowned and Shane grinned at the familiar look, recognisable even through his glasses-less vision. “Shut up, Shane. I’m not an _animal_.”

Pushing himself off the bed, Shane headed to his overnight bag to start packing up. “I see that our little ghostly friend didn’t make an appearance last night, huh?”

There was a dramatic sigh from the other side of the room, “Well, the only demonic face I woke up to see was yours, so no.”

“Harsh,” Shane pouted at him in a mock-hurt tone. “I’m starting to think this ghost doesn’t exist, and you just wanted an excuse to go to Las Vegas.” 

Ryan threw an empty, crumbled up bag of candy at his head which he narrowly avoided. They fell into a companionable silence after that, and Shane relished in the last moments of their privacy before they met up with TJ and the others to head back home. As they packed up, Ryan’s eyes looked a little distant and Shane tilted his head at him curiously. “You okay, man?”

Ryan turned to him with a small smile. “Oh, it’s nothing. Usually I have a really hard time falling asleep on locations, but last night I slept like a damned baby.”

Shane’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh yeah?” He asked, far too curious for such a simple statement. 

Letting out a wistful sigh, Ryan stretched his arms in a yawn. “Maybe I should start having a shot of whiskey before I fall asleep every time we film? It’d make your life easier if I was out like a light every time, huh? Probably not great for viewing, though.”

“Maybe not,” Shane replied quietly, suddenly _very_ interested in his overnight bag and _not at all_ interested in watching his best friend. 

There was no way that it was connected, Ryan was probably right when he said it was the alcohol. There was no way that it was because Ryan had spent the entire night curled up against him like a koala. There was no way it was because, subconsciously Ryan felt comfortable sleeping with him. There was no way.

However, that didn’t mean his mind didn’t _wish_ that was true. 


	2. Like a Daisy, I'm Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natsukashii:
> 
> 1\. "Nostalgic, reminiscent of good memories, missed, longed for, yearned after."  
> 2\. (archaic) "dear, beloved, cherished, sweet"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom, bam, shamalam. Here's an update. Enjoy, it's just around 3k of Ryan being introspective about scents. Kinda. There's some anxiety thrown in there too. Speaking of, I've updated the tags! I hope you all enjoy, thanks again to Steph for beta-reading <3

Ryan tried to think back on when the switch took place.

The only time he thought it could have happened was when Shane blindly felt around in the car trunk for his overnight bag, his hand clasping around the strap and pulling it out without checking the name tag. He had been asleep the entire journey back from Las Vegas and yet still looked exhausted like he hadn’t slept in a millennia. It was entirely possible that it was in that moment when the mistake was made.

Which led to Ryan in the position he was in now, staring into a similar black overnight bag to his own with a baffled expression as the contents that stared back at him were very distinctly  _ not his. _

Instead of his favourite Lakers jersey he had worn on the journey there which he had been looking to wash for the game tomorrow, he was greeted by the sight of soft red flannel shirts and a small turquoise baggie with contact solution inside. Ryan dropped the offending bag, a tension headache already starting to form behind his eyes. It seemed like they were incapable of filming  _ Unsolved  _ without at least one incident.

Ryan pulled out his phone and sent off a quick message to Shane, accusing him of stealing his dirty laundry, without much hope that the man would see it. Shane had been three seconds away from passing out when TJ had dropped him off at his apartment building, which meant that his phone was probably already set to Do Not Disturb and he had a full day of napping ahead of him. 

He put his head in his hands and let out a long, weary groan. He supposed that this might as well happen since his week wasn’t already stressful enough with the Unsolved shoot and Watcher Weekly shoot being back to back with barely any time for respite. Ryan sighed theatrically, feeling like he was allowed to be a little dramatic given the sheer amount of popcorn and horror movies he would need to consume just to recover from the week. He reached down to pick up the bag, considering washing Shane’s laundry in a show of friendship, when his hands brushed up against something soft.

Ryan faltered, slowly pulling out the item and revealing a large grey sweater.

He recognised it immediately of course. After all, he had seen Shane in all manner of clothes including, memorably, a cheerleader skirt. This was Shane’s go-to lounging sweater. On almost all of their shoots, Shane had brought along this old thing and always chose to wear it either with his pyjamas, or just as something comfortable while they traveled. It wasn’t anything special or even particularly flattering on Shane’s gargantuan frame, but it wasn’t meant to be. Secretly, when Ryan allowed his mind to wander, he thought that Shane always looked particularly cozy in this sweater.

Other than being particular snuggly, the sweater had one other very distinct feature that Ryan was apt to notice. It was  _ large. _

All of Shane’s clothes were large, so maybe that wasn’t the best example. Shane was a tall guy with odd proportions which meant that more often than not he had a hard time finding clothes that actually fit him. Shirts with sleeves that were too short, jeans that bare his ankles and lower calves, jackets that sat snug over his shoulders. It was something Ryan knew all too well about, since the man would always make  _ such _ a big deal whenever he found clothes that actually fit him.

However, the sweater was different. Despite it being labelled as a Men’s Medium, it could not have been anything less than an Extra Large. When Shane wore it, he looked a little silly. The sleeves would come past his hands, leaving only the barest hint of his fingertips peeking out, and it went past his hips and covered the majority of his hips. Ryan could remember how he had laughed, the first time he saw Shane wear it.

It was one of their earlier Unsolved shoots though Ryan was pressed to remember which one exactly. It was after TJ and the others had left for them to sleep in the damned place alone, and Shane had come out of the bathroom donned in the grey sweater and a pair of Jurassic Park pyjama pants. “You look like Scrooge McDuck in Mickey’s  _ A Christmas Carol. _ ” Ryan teased, his eyes bright. “You know, when he’s wearing that little night gown?”

His friend raised a thin eyebrow at him with a smirk. “You know Scrooge wears that gown in all versions of  _ A Christmas Carol _ . Not just the duck version of him animated by an alleged antisemite in the 50s.”

Ryan’s laughing ceased then, and he frowned. “... It was released in the 80s”

“So you don’t have a comeback for the alleged antisemite comment?” Shane pressed with a sly grin.

“Shut up, Shane.”

Ryan shook his head free of the memory, mindlessly turning over the grey sweater in his hands, running his fingers along the washing machine worn cotton. He allowed himself, just for a moment, to zone out and focus entirely on the way that the grooves of the material felt against the pads of his finger tips. Distantly, the remaining embarrassment from waking up to find that he was drooling all over Shane resurfaced and he felt his cheeks warms just a little. He remembered rousing from the fog of sleep with his face pressed entirely against Shane’s chest. He remembers how it felt to wake up with the soft, steady thrum of Shane’s heartbeat next to his ear.; Shane had been wearing the sweater then, too.

He snapped back to reality with a jolt, very cautiously looking around him for any intruders on this peculiar scene. Once he was certain that he wasn’t going to see Ashton Kutcher strolling around the corner with a full camera crew to tell him that he’d been  _ Punk’d _ , he turned back to the sweater, very slowly raised the gentle material to his cheek and nuzzled against it.

It was almost impossibly soft. Either from years of washing machines battering the cotton into this cushy pliable mesh of fibers, or because Shane had taken very good care of it over the years. Either way, the way that the sweater felt against Ryan’s rough stubbled cheek filled him with a sense of comfort he was certain he hadn’t felt since he was a child.

It reminded him of when he would go to bed with his favourite stuffed teddy-bear tucked into his chubby child arms, his face squished into the sewn shoulder of the tiny bear. It was a rare feeling that struck deep inside of his chest and made his head feel fuzzy with nostalgia. He remembered the Japanese word that his mother would sometimes say when she looked back on her childhood. 

_ Natsukashii. _

He brought the sweater up to fully bury his face into it, closing his eyes and breathing steadily, desperately trying not to think about how creepy he looked right now. The sweater smelt like Shane, which was obvious, but something about it was different. It was like all those brief moments where Shane had stood too close or pulled Ryan close to him were merged into one and suddenly the smell he had only gotten glimpses of before was fully exposed for him to observe in all its glory. It was a hard scent to pinpoint, and Ryan had to stop himself from simply describing the damn thing as just  _ Shane _ .

It conjured up images of summers gone by. That mix of grass, heat and hints of citrus that swirled together to connect with memories of playing basketball in the park, sweating glasses of ice cold lemonade, and skin turned red from the sun. Underneath it all, though, was something he could only describe as Shane. The man’s natural musk that wasn’t exactly pine but wasn’t exactly cedar either, just something so intrinsically  _ Shane, Shane, Shane. _

He lifted his head up from the sweater with a deep gasp, as if surfacing from the water.

Ryan felt a little embarrassed at his reaction and felt the cold splash of self awareness wash over him.  _ If Shane saw what I was doing he’d be horrified _ , Ryan thought guiltily. Red faced and with his tail between his legs, he bashfully transferred Shane’s clothes from the overnight bag to his broken laundry basket. It was only right that he did Shane's laundry for him, after he just huffed his stench like a god damned pervert for five minutes. 

He looked at the grey sweater laying innocently on his living room floor with trepidation. He reached towards it briefly, fingers twitching as if to put it in the basket with the others, before he decided against it, instead folding it up and placing it on his coffee table. Shane probably had some kind of special way he washed the thing since it was so old, Ryan reasoned with himself. Ryan would probably just ruin it with his own cheap detergent and he wouldn’t want that. Nope. He pushed open his apartment door with his free hand, and gave one last look at the sweater, before heading to the communal laundromat. 

* * *

Ryan doesn’t mean to let it, but the sweater sort of haunts him after that. 

They had both taken the day off as they usually did after Unsolved shoots. It had been implemented early on in Unsolved’s run after they had thought it would be a good idea to do a full day’s work on just a few hours of rough sleep in a haunted house. Neither of them had gotten any work done the day after their first shoot and it had taken Ryan falling asleep during a semi-important meeting with some higher-ups for the decision to be made.

It was fine by him and if it were any other shoot, he would be taking a leaf out of Shane’s book and taking the time to sleep. This time though, he felt entirely  _ too _ awake, and suddenly found himself with a day off with nothing to do. Ryan threw himself onto his couch and turned on Paddington 2, letting it play out while he absentmindedly checked his emails, replying to a few of them and saving the rest for when he got back to his work computer. He had a message from Steven asking how the shoot went, and he hesitated for a moment before replying  _ ‘good. no ghosts tho. I beat the big guy at poker’  _ figuring that Steven wouldn’t verify the validity of that statement with Shane. 

Steven sent him back a little sad face followed by the ghost emoji, therefore ending the conversation. Sensing that Steven was probably too busy to talk properly, Ryan checked the time and saw that it wasn’t even one in the afternoon yet, which meant he still had a whole lot of day left to waste. 

He turned his eyes back to the television screen and watched Hugh Grant prance around his secret attic and talk to his mannequins, though he felt his eyes drift back to his phone after a few minutes. As much as he adored this movie and its pastel pink prisoners, it wasn’t exactly holding his attention.

In fact, he would argue that his attention was being stolen away by the grey sweater that he could see in his direct line of vision, his eyes always coming back to it longingly. Despite his mind telling him not to, he extended out his arm to brush his fingers against the top, running them down and over the seam near the collar. He could see why Shane loved this stupid thing. Ryan had only had it in his possession for a little over two hours and he was practically entranced by it. 

Again, worried that somehow this entire ordeal was being recorded, he looked around himself and then back to the sweater. A moment passed between them, Ryan staring at the sweater and the sweater staring at him. Then another moment. And another.

_ “Fuck it.” _ Ryan declared and pulled his own shirt off, throwing it to the side where it landed with a soft  _ thwump _ .

Ryan practically ripped the sweater in his haste to wear it, and stood up to let the bundled up material fall down his body. He shook his arms a little and let the sleeves fully fall past his fingers until they were entirely covered. For a moment he simply stood there, taking it in. The sweater came all the way down past his crotch and stopped just a little bit above his knees. He swung a little, watching the hem of the sweater twist and flutter against his thighs with a dazed fascination.

He brought one of his hands up to his face, and rested it against his cheek, grinning as that familiar intense summer-y, lemon-y,  _ Shane- _ y smell enveloped him once again. It seemed to circle around him like vines, ensnaring his limbs and keeping him inside its grasp. But, Ryan found that instead of feeling trapped or overwhelmed, it just left him with that same sense of nostalgic comfort he had felt earlier. He closed his eyes and sat back down on the couch, letting himself get lost in it.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Ryan had been having a tough time recently.

_ Are You Scared  _ hadn’t performed well enough to grant them a new season, despite how it would have been filmed live in person this time around, and  _ Spooky Small Talk _ wasn’t going to be making another appearance until at least October when Knott’s Scary Farm opened back up again.  _ Too Many Spirits  _ was on a temporary hiatus after an incident involving a stray cocktail glass and one of their more expensive cameras. Essentially it meant that Watcher was only being held afloat by Shane, Steven and Katie’s projects until Ryan got his ass in gear to create a new show, or at least revamp the other ones he had until they were deemed good (read: profitable) enough to get another season.

It had been a meeting that Shane and Steven had both attended, when they told him about  _ Are You Scared _ getting the axe. Shane hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes as Steven told him and Ryan felt a little like he was being cast out of the very company he had helped create. Despite this, he understood how they were feeling all too well. After all, if it had been  _ Puppet History _ or  _ Dish Granted _ that had been underperforming, then it would have been him awkwardly sitting in the meeting and avoiding eye contact. It was the blurred line between where their friendship ended and their professional relationship started, a disconnect between your  _ bosses _ and your  _ best friends _ ; he couldn’t blame them for it.

However, he was tired of always feeling like no matter what he did, it just wasn’t  _ enough. _

Ryan wasn’t naive and he knew that starting a company wasn’t easy. It was hard,  _ hard _ work that had resulted in many sleepless nights and stress headaches. Despite how difficult the launch had been, how their projected watch figures hadn’t been met in that first year, they were still being kept afloat by the consistent and constant support of the tiny corner of the internet they called the Watcher community.

Somewhere along the line however, the novelty of  _ ‘the two Unsolved guys and that one guy from Worth It made a company’  _ had worn off and they were relying more and more on their content actually being good enough to keep people’s interests.

So they poured their hearts and souls into each video, tearing themselves apart to make something  _ good  _ that would make people feel inclined to stay and support them. 

It meant that each time a video didn’t hit its target view count, it was like an arrow shot straight into Ryan’s back as he watched this silly little company he brought into the word get a little harder to keep going. It had been a full year since their launch, and even though quite a few of their videos had gotten on the trending tab (which they celebrated each time), there were ten others that barely got enough money from AdSense to cover the cost of the production.

Ryan often looked at Steven and Shane and wondered if they carried their own arrows on their backs. He wondered if they trudged through their day to day with their spines littered with the same wood, feather and iron that stabbed Ryan and pulled his mood down.

In that moment, away from the office and away from the allure of watching their subscriber count tick up and down on a graph like a heart rate monitor, sitting alone in his living room -- he was at peace.

All because of a stupid sweater.

_ If only all of life's problems could be solved this way _ , Ryan thought to himself, bringing the right hand sleeve up and breathing in the summer-lemon- _ Shane _ smell. He was distantly aware that people liked to fill their homes with scented candles or lavender to relieve their tensions or anxieties, but he had never thought to try it himself. But all it had taken was one breath of this sweater and suddenly he felt his body relax and his mind clear, as if by magic. No wonder Shane had always seemed so chill if he was using body wash or detergent that had such a profound effect. 

Ryan’s thoughts were interrupted by the telltale ringing of the  _ Twilight Zone _ theme song from his phone, the personalised ringtone he had set for Shane. He grasped for the phone with fumbling fingers, pulling it out to see that Shane was requesting to FaceTime. Ryan stared at the contact photo he had chosen for Shane, a too-close photo where the man looked bug-eyed with a particularly unattractive shot up his nostrils. “Oh,  _ shit. _ ” he swore under his breath, and looked down at his sweater. He panicked for a moment and declined the call, only to immediately call Shane back without video. “Hey! Hey, man!” Ryan greeted with a rushed breathy tone.

The silence seemed to judge him thoroughly for a few seconds before Shane’s familiar voice came through the speaker grill as he very quietly asked: “Dude, were you just jerking off?”

Ryan’s face flushed a tomato red and he moved the phone away a little so that he could muffle an embarrassed groan into his hand. “ _ No _ . Jesus Christ, man.”

Shane hummed on the other end, and Ryan could almost imagine the way Shane’s eyes would crinkle in that familiar teasing way. “Hm, sure. So you always answer your phone out of breath?”

“I was working out.”

“Really.”

“Yup,” Ryan insisted, popping the ‘p’. 

Shane hummed in a way that said  _ ‘I don’t believe you’  _ but let it go. “I passed out the second I got home, I didn’t even make it to the bed,” Shane told him and Ryan could hear him stifle a yawn on the other end. “I think I might have stayed asleep for twelve more hours if Obi didn’t wake me up.”

Ryan winced in sympathy. “Did you not get much sleep last night, when we--  _ uh _ .” Ryan stopped just seconds before his neanderthal brain decided to say  _ ‘when we slept together’. _

Shane went silent on his end for a few seconds, and at first Ryan thought he was going to mention their unorthodox sleeping positions. “No, I did sleep. I just think the alcohol from last night is still leaving my system, y’know? That’s why you don’t drink at 3am when you have a 6am start time, kids.”

Ryan snorted. “Well, I feel great.”

“Ha ha, we get it. Your young body can handle alcohol better than I can,” Shane droned, unamused.

The line went a little quiet after that, the two of them falling into an easy companionable silence. When he was on the phone with any of his other friends, he found that he always had to keep the conversation going, never letting the line have any dead air. With Shane, he never felt that pressure; never felt like he had to ‘perform’ just to keep his friend happy. He felt like he could just be himself, even in the moments when nothing was actually happening. 

Ryan brought the phone up to his ear as he rearranged himself on the couch to lie down. As he wiggled himself into a comfortable position, that smell came back with full force and he felt his face heat up. There was something so… intimate about wearing Shane’s clothes without him even realising. 

He heard Shane make a kissy noise on the other end and Ryan grinned when he realised that he was calling Obi over to him. As if on cue, he heard the light jingle of the bell on Obi’s collar as the cat trotted over to his owner to receive a pet or a treat or whatever Shane had wanted him for.

“Why’d you call then, big guy?” Ryan asked after Shane went silent again. “Did you need something?”

Shane blinked at the camera and frowned for a moment, before shrugging almost bashfully. “I don’t know. I woke up to an empty apartment and it felt too much like lockdown times. Wanted to see a friendly face.”

Ryan flushed a little, trying not to think about he was apparently the first person Shane thought of when he wanted to see someone he cared about. “Aw, that’s sweet,” Ryan teased, hiding how touched he actually was. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only the prettiest ones,” Shane replied with a wink. “Sorry about the bag mixup by the way, I swear I’m not trying to steal your clothes. I don’t think  _ jock-chic _ is really my style.”

Ryan blinked at the mention of their bag swap, then slapped his head in realisation when he remembered that he had sent Shane a small message. “Oh, yeah,” he swallowed, heart thudding a little louder at the clothes swapping implication, and the irony of Shane’s joke. “And I’m not into yeti  _ dernier cri. _ ”

Shane scoffed on the other end and Ryan grinned widely at his ceiling, imagining the expression on his friends face. As the conversation continued, Ryan closed his eyes and let himself listen to Shane’s rambling with a warm smile on his face. He let his worries of the past couple of months drift away, while he imagined that all too intoxicating, reassuring scent of summer-lemon- _ Shane _ twisting around the space of his living room in loose spirals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BETA NOTES: "damn, when and where can i smell shane?"
> 
> I know it's physically impossible for Ryan to take a sniff of that sweater and be able to pinpoint exactly what it smells like but listen, this is fanfiction. Anything's possible here; ships can be canon, character deaths can be reversed, and ghost hunting YouTubers can have a superhuman sense of smell. New chapter... when I write it. Sorry for the lack of Shane, next chapter will be in his POV. Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment, I read and reply to them all.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this work, and the song Shane sings to Ryan is "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" from the musical Pal Joey, but the version he sings and the version I had in my mind was Doris Day's cover of it, which you can find on Spotify :) If you enjoyed this please leave a comment, or a kudos, it would seriously mean the world to me. If you have any questions, shoot me a message at @scallywap on Twitter or Tumblr! I hope you all have a wonderful day <3


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